Me Time:

The Clean Version

Your mind just took a detour into the gutter, didn’t it? Okay, let’s drag it back onto the road before somebody honks. This isn’t that kind of “self-enjoyment”. No dim lighting or Barry White. Just the radical idea of spending time alone—and liking it.

I walk every day. Three to five miles. Rain, shine, or whatever fresh hell Georgia’s weather throws at me. That walk? That’s my time. And if I’m really feeling myself, I hit the gym. Spoiler alert: dumbbells are still too damn heavy. Fix that science.

Here’s the thing: I don’t think most folks do this. I mean take intentional alone time. Not sitting on the potty scrolling through your phone while the kids are setting the house on fire. I mean real-deal, silence-your-brain, no-one-needs-you time.

Some people need chaos. It’s where they thrive. They can’t go five minutes without drama, noise, and somebody asking for a snack. Others? They crave peace. Quiet. The sweet sound of nobody saying their name. It’s Almond Joy vs. Snickers. Different strokes, ya know?

But you know what I see most? People who don’t spend any time alone. Not five minutes. Not ever. And that’s not healthy. I’m not a doctor, but I know what happens when you skip maintenance—you break down and start yelling at the cashier for bagging your groceries wrong.

So here’s your prescription: do something just for you. Run. Walk. Nap. Read. Knit. Listen to music. Clip your toenails. Or just sit in your car in the driveway pretending you’re not home. That counts too.

Do it with purpose. Do it daily. You might find something. Peace. Clarity. Or maybe that song lyric you’ve been butchering since 1997. But I firmly believe you’ll find something.

Me? I wake up early for coffee with nobody. That’s my thinkin’ time. Later, I walk or hit the gym and zone out. It resets me. Keeps me from turning into that guy in the grocery store cussing out strangers over the last pack of frozen peas.

That’s another thing—I actually think the lack of alone time is why folks are so damn rude these days.

• In stores: Acting like they’re in a UFC match over avocados.

• On the road: One flicked blinker away from vehicular homicide.

• At restaurants: Speaking to servers like they’re butlers in a Netflix drama.

(Word of advice: if you’re nasty to the waitstaff, don’t be shocked if your burger tastes, well, a little... um… er… personalized.)

So give it a shot. Five minutes. Ten if you’re brave. Be alone. On purpose.

If you hate it, congratulations—you’re human. Keep practicing. Pretty soon you’ll be sitting alone like a pro, ignoring people without guilt.

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Because when we feel like we’re losing our minds, The Condition might be the only thing that keeps us from drop-kicking strangers in the produce aisle.